Escape Route
by sunnywinterclouds
Summary: When Annabeth Chase first lays her stormy eyes on Percy Jackson, she makes a solemn oath to herself right then and there that they will not be friends.


When Annabeth Chase first lays her stormy eyes on Percy Jackson, she makes a solemn oath to herself _right then and there_ that they will not be friends.

It's not because she's jealous, jealous that he's been at camp for two minutes and done out of pure instinct what she's been training to do all her life. It's not because he's scrawny and short and his emerald eyes clash with her gray so severely that she's sure they'll never get along. And it's not because he almost died, and if he'd died Grover would have been doomed, and Grover is her friend and she would have hated the boy for dying even if that sounds a little ridiculous even to her own ears.

It's because he's the one.

She's sure of it. She's been sure before, several times, in fact, but not like this. It's not the ritual she's accustomed to – a new camper arrives, she gets her hopes up that he (or she, there's been some of those too) is the prophecy child, and then they get claimed and she impatiently waits for another demigod to come out of the woodwork and to get another chance to go on a quest like she's always wanted.

Percy Jackson is different.

She doesn't just _want_ him to be the one. She knows. He's the boy destined to decide the world's fate. There's something about his eyes, the one that differ so intensely from her own, that let her know he's going to be either the savior or the destroyer of everything that is.

She's never been so sure of anything in all of her life.

It's why they can't be friends.

He's going to die. On his sixteenth birthday, after surviving everything else against all odds, this boy is going to die.

Four years is a long time to get to know someone. And she's going to convince him to let her go on a quest with him, that's for sure, but they're not going to be friends. It's not going to be anything more than that.

She won't get to know him. She won't depend on him. She won't let him matter to her.

She won't.

…

She does.

It's not her fault, really – he cares too much for her to not care back. Her initial assessment of him was right – they absolutely _clash._ It must partly be because she's a daughter of Athena, and he's a son of Poseidon, and they're _meant_ to be mortal enemies, but it's more than that. They're so different. He's blunt and naïve and rash and she just can't understand how someone can just wing it as they go along and not have a plan.

Athena always, _always_ has a plan.

It works for Percy, though. He doesn't think things through, and she's sure his impulses are going to get him killed within the day but they don't. He fights, he holds on and keeps going and smiles all throughout it and she admires him for that.

She makes a crucial mistake.

She becomes his friend.

That's okay, though. Because they're not _good_ friends. They're not _best_ friends. He's there, and she doesn't mind that, and she'll fight by his side when she's not fighting against him and his bull-headed opinions. And she can always pull back. He means something to her, sure, but not _much._ She's a daughter of Athena, and she always has a plan, and in this case it's an escape route. If she starts to care too much, she'll back out. They don't have to be friends. She doesn't _need_ him.

But she can't help but feel sad when she sees him. He is going to die. He's nice, and he's funny, and he's a bit dense, and he's destined to die before he ever really gets to live.

She wishes it were different.

She wishes she could be his friend.

But she can't be.

…

She is.

She's his _best _friend. And he is hers. He holds up the sky for her, and she can't help but feel like the matching streaks of gray are like friendship bracelets, only they're permanent. They're forever, just like her and Percy, and she's surprised to find that she doesn't mind. And her heart aches whenever she remembers that his fate is to die, that they can't be forever because he's not going to have that long. He's going to die, die to save Olympus and the world because she's sure he's not going to destroy it. Percy could never do that. He would die a hero, and he'd be amazing, and she'd be proud.

And sad.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he's _not_ the one. Bianca is dead, and Thalia has joined the hunt, but Nico could be the one. It could be possible.

But then Percy will die _before_ his sixteenth birthday, and she will have even less time with him and that's so bad but in some ways it's better because the more days they spend together the more she needs him.

She relies on him more than she has any right to, when she's known he was doomed from the beginning.

He tries so hard, and he always makes it out alive and every time she's _so_ relieved but sad because he's just putting off his inevitable fate. He evades death like it's no problem, but it's going to catch him in the end.

She hates that.

Her plan failed. He's her friend. He's her best friend. She can't escape that. She's come to terms with that.

But he'll never be anything more.

She won't let him be.

…

He is.

She realizes that the moment she sees Rachel. Pretty, innocent Rachel, who's just so perfect and funny and carefree and lucky.

She's a mortal. Percy can't like a _mortal._ He's supposed to like _her,_ Annabeth, his best friend, his ally.

Screw Rachel.

But he's still naïve and stupid, and so utterly oblivious that it's almost painful. There's just no excuse for how dumb he is. Seaweed Brain is a _compliment_, and even that freaking Dare girl gets it and Percy just sits there thinking his best friend's gone insane.

Hades, maybe she has.

She likes him. More than she should.

And then he dies, because there's no way he survived that explosion and the reason she was never supposed to care in the first place is a slap in the face so painful that she's left hollow and broken.

He's dead. He wasn't the one. She was wrong. She loves him, and she's lost him, and she's not sure if it's _to_ _a fate worse than death_ but she's far too grief stricken to care.

She shouldn't have let him near her. She's a daughter of Athena, and she's smart, and she shouldn't have let herself fall for him when she knew he was going to die.

He was always going to die.

But not yet.

He's _alive._

She's so angry, angry because he let her wallow in shame and guilt and heart-wrenching, soul-sucking _agony_ for two weeks and he was fine the whole time. She hates him, hates him so much and hates him even more because she _doesn't_ hate him, she loves him and he still doesn't get it because he's Percy.

And she hates herself. For being so, _so _stupid.

As stupid as him.

Except it's worse, because he's a son of Poseidon so it's natural for him to be instinctive and rash but she's a battle strategist, a daughter of Athena, and it's acceptable for him to be a little (a lot) thick but not for her.

She's an idiot.

He is going to die. Those two weeks were just a sneak peek of what it's going to be like when he's gone, and she has dreams of cradling his broken body in her arms and sobbing for him to please, _please_ not be dead but he always is. And every evening she tosses a piece of her dinner into the fire and prays that these are just nightmares, nightmares from stress and nerves and fear and they're not demigod visions of what will come to be.

It doesn't matter.

He is going to die.

…

He doesn't.

He _doesn't_ die. He lives. Luke dies, and Percy lives, and she never _never_ wanted Luke to die but she's so happy that it's not Percy with the blood on his lips and the life fading from his eyes that she almost cries from joy as well as sorrow.

And Percy is stupid, _so_ stupid that he turns down immortality and godhood and everything that all mortals want, and she's almost angry at him for being such an idiot and for refusing something that would keep him safe when she couldn't, but she is so _so_ glad that she's not losing him that she has to restrain herself from kissing him in front of the Olympians and her _mother_ because that would be bad.

So she kisses him later.

Because he didn't say it, and neither did she, but he stayed a half-blood for _her,_ for his family and his friends but mainly for her.

She loves him.

And for once, she doesn't regret it.

**a/n this has probably been done a zillion times before but I've been wanting to write a PJO fanfiction for a while and this is what came up. it's unbetaed so **_**please**_** point out mistakes as you see them.**

**thinking of doing another chapter for when Percy's missing and stuff. thoughts?  
**


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